Expect The Unexpected
by ElfGirl4
Summary: Sands is being held by one of the many cartels that are after him, and they're convinced that he knows the whereabouts of El Mariachi. During his stay in a cell, he meets a French girl who might just change everything... -


The characters in this story do not belong to me…. Or well…. A lot of them…. Most of them do…. Just not the characters from the awesome movie…. So in other words…. I don't own Agent Sands, El Mariachi, Caroline, Barillo (even though he's only mentioned…), etc…. got it? But if only I could have Agent Sands…. How much lovelier life would be…. Hey- I can dream, can't I? *-*

A/N: This is my 1st OUATIM fic, so don't be too harsh when you review… I'm still trying to tap into the little piece of Agent Sands that I _know_ I have _somewhere_ in the back of my head…. So I hope you like it!

A/N #2: This takes place basically right after the movie leaves Sands leaning on the side of the building. As of now… he's in… well, you can read it for yourself… savvy?

            The rogue CIA agent, Sheldon Jeoffrey Sands, awoke from unconsciousness, but didn't bother to open his eyes. The truth was, he didn't have any to open. It felt odd for him, not opening his eyes like he had all his life, yet that same fact amused him. Sands found himself laughing cynically at the fact that he'd never open his eyes in the morning again, a fact of life that almost the entire world did, yet hated. And now… he wouldn't have to partake in that _gleeful_ activity. No… once again, he'd be different, he'd be the odd one, but somehow it didn't bother him in the least at this moment, for he was still laughing.

            Agent Sands was in the basement cell of a cartel. Where it was, he didn't know, and to ask which cartel would be pointless. He was absolutely certain that there were at _least_ a dozen cartel searching for him, and now one had him. The cell was large, and had a dank quality about it, yet it was humid as well. There weren't any windows, so the air tasted like mold and there was no light in the room, save for a single light bulb suspended from the ceiling. Not that Sands needed that of course…

            His CIA training coming into play, he found that his bullet wounds had been bandaged, the bullets removed, and his eyes, or at least where they used to be, were roughly bandaged to stop the steady ebbing of blood that came from them. He noticed that he was bound with handcuffs at his wrists and ankles as well. CIA logic and common sense, or at least as common as _his_ sense got, told him that he was only here because of something he knew. Something that would be useful to the cartel, whichever one had him,; something that they would eventually try to get out of him. But for now, he was left to sit, to sit and anticipate what the cartel's next move would be.  

            And there he sat, for the next day and a half, in a corner, waiting. He could be patient, when the need arose – or just when he wanted to be, and now was just one more line to wait in at the big amusement park of life… this ride would be the mystery ride, the one with question marks painted all over the outside walls until he would finally hand his ticket to the ticket girl, make some smart remark about her tits and step on the ride.

            Suddenly, he cocked his head; he heard footsteps from outside the room, coming to the door and stopping. Then, the came sound of someone fumbling with keys. "Ahh… the ticket girl…" he thought to himself facetiously. 

            The lock clicked, the handle of the door turned, and as that happened, Sands found the door was, judging by his hearing, about six feet to the left of him and ten feet in front of him – on the opposite corner of the cell.

            "Buenos dias, Agent Sands. Como estas?" the voice said calmly; it was clearly a man's voice.

            Agent Sands snorted at the sound of the voice, "You're no ticket girl…" he said scathingly.

            "I'm sorry?" said the man in the doorway who had begun to walk toward Sands, his voice sounded vaguely irritated now, but still calm and collected.

            "What? Don't tell me some cartel cut off your ear…" Sands mocked, smiling toward the spot he judged the man would be, based on the sound of his footsteps. He was right in front of Sands, and Sands smiled fakely up at him. The smile was soon becoming real as he sense the man's irritation grow.

He was rather fond of his knack for pissing people off within a minute or two of meeting them; it was fun. And plus, if he had guessed correctly, his sarcasm and whatnot would have to be overlooked by the cartel, since he supposedly knew something of value to them. He kept grinning.

The man standing in front of Sands was clearly uncomfortable with that huge grin plastered on the man sitting on the floor before him, that feeling crept into his voice as he said, "You see, Mr. Moyano would like your company for an afternoon luncheon. If you would get up – por favor." The man struggled to be so polite. Had he not been ordered to be kind, he would have already dragged this agent up to the courtyard by his hair.

The grin on Sand's face was gone now. "They must have taken your eyes too. Look fuckmook, I've got goddamn shackles on my ankles, handcuffs on my hands, bullet holes in my body, _and_ not to mention… _no eyes_, and you expect me to 'see' and get up? No. I think not. I'll just sit right here." His temper had surfaced and the lack of any nourishment for the last two days didn't help it. But mostly it was the fact that this idiot had mentioned 'seeing' something. Sands had grown rather annoyed at the mention of anything to do with his now, nonexistent eyes. First Ajedrez, then those two guards, then Ramierez… and now this minion of the cartel… he was getting put out at the fact that everyone made some shit comment about his eyes.

"_Por favor," _the man said, barely restraining himself from hurting the blind CIA agent before him. 

"Listen – I _can't._ Maybe they took your brain too because I don't know why you can't seem to comprehend anything. I would love to have you try to get up with fucking handcuffs on your arms and legs. So do you think it's possible for such a fucking idiot as yourself to go get some keys to undo these?" Sands asked condescendingly to the man in front of him.

The man was insulted and aimed to kick Sands, but Sands saw it coming, in a manner of speaking and whipped out his legs and knocked the man over as he tried to swing one of his legs over.

            To his satisfaction, Sands could hear the heavy breathing of the man who was now getting up and dusting himself off. "Now do you want to go get those keys?" he asked, like he was pissed off, but honestly, he was enjoying this immensely. It helped him believe that he didn't need eyes – they were just another expendable item that he could live without. He was doing fine and if anyone tried anything on him, he could beat them at their own game. Sans listened as he heard the man go out of the room to fetch some keys, he chuckled at the thought of how that guy's face would look right now… Knocked off his feet by an almost immobile blind man…

He was still chuckling as the man came back in, jingling a different set of keys to unlock his shackles. The man only did Sands' ankles and then told him to get up. Sands did so easily and the man led Sands by gunpoint out of the big cell to the luncheon.

Sands tried counting steps and turns and directions on his way to the luncheon, but there grew to be too many of both and he soon lost count, then he was just along for the ride, which was almost about to begin

The man led Sands to a little, outdoor courtyard with flowering trees smattered all around it, with a small patio set in the middle. The lunch was on the table and there was another man at the table.

"Here you are senor, Agent Sands," the man escorting Sands announced. As it turned out, today, in the great amusement park of life, this escort was the ticket _boy_ and he was handing him off to hitch a cart on the mystery ride.

The man at the table stood up and turned around to face Sands. "Hello Agent Sands."

The ride had begun.

A/N: Hey! I really hope that all of you liked this… this is my first OUATIM fic (as I'm sure you read up there…) and I am still trying to get Sands' characterization down, but I hope I'm doing well so far… I'd love to hear what you all think and I hope you come back for more! If you've got any suggestions, just email me- it's on my bio, and I'll try to incorporate it in! I think that OUATIM is the best of the El Mariachi series…. Although Desperado was good too…. But anyways…. Please review, and if this story doesn't fit your fancy, then check out some of my other ones…. Like "Defeat"…. I'm told that one's good… *-* Anyways…. I'll let you go review… since I know you want to!!! *-*

Cheers!

Tati Bloom aka Elf Girl 4

PS: I love Orlando Bloom!!!

PPS: Does anyone know how to get the "swiggle" …. I think it might be called a tilde… (I wouldn't know since I take French…) on the "n"s? I tried to get one on senor, but it wouldn't work…. I tried to look in symbols, but they didn't have it…. If you could tell me, it's be great! Thanks!!! *-*


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